The Demon and The Sorceress
by Jenny T
Summary: AU Nightcrawler Origin fic. When Jubilee is struck down by a mysterious illness after a fight with the evil-mutant-of-the-week, how far will Wolvie go to find a cure? All the way to Germany, for a start.
1. Chapter One Last Resorts

Disclaimer:  Marvel own the X-Men.  I own this story, and not very much else.  I make no money off this, so please don't sue me.

A/N: AU, a.k.a I can't be bothered with canon.

Jubilation Lee was dying.

That was the only conclusion Henry McCoy could come to.  He took off his glasses and sighed.  In the next room, the gentle beep of the monitors assured him that for the moment, his young charge was still of the living; the almost inaudible (at least to normal, human, ears), squeak of a chair against the floor indicated that Logan had just shifted his weight from one side to the another, one of the few movements he'd make that night.

It had been, or was supposed to have been, a routine mission.  Save a mutant, defeat the bad guys, save the world.  Not that any recognition would be given them by the world at large; that wasn't the important part, after all.

Villain of the week was quickly dispatched; but not before his nails had scratched deep wounds in the flesh of both Wolverine and Jubilee.  Wolverine's wounds had healed a little more slowly than usual, perhaps a sign of what was to come.  Jubilee, however, had just got worse, and worse, and worse.

He would call it a coma, but in a coma there was no pain.  And the damn thing was _adapting.  Somewhere between a toxin and a virus, it was fighting away the painkillers that would at least make her death painless and dignified._

Hank had barely slept since they'd brought her, half-conscious and babbling, into the med-lab.  He was pretty sure his feral comrade hadn't slept at all; if he had, it had been upright in the chair he sat in, between his frantic trips overseas.  Doctors, scientists, mutants with healing powers – they'd all been brought to the mansion, either of their own free will, or at the tip of six adamantium claws.  And they'd all given the same answer.

The answer, that now, reluctantly, he was also beginning to accept.  Maybe if he had a few years, he might be able to get a handle on this sickness.  But they didn't have years.

Gentle noise of the door hinges was Ororo bringing them both dinner.  A grunt from Logan to acknowledge her presence, and thank her for the meal, and without even looking Hank could see the hand she would lay upon his shoulder, an acknowledgement and reminder of love and passion put on hold, for now.

But somewhere in her eyes there would be the doubt, that even her love could pull him back from the brink, should this child fall.  A daughter to him, closer than any other here.  A sort of desperate stillness had descended over the mansion; even the eternal war that was Remy and Rogue's relationship had mellowed; now they usually could be found curled up together, as close as was possible without endangering the Cajun's life.

A plate landed on the table, breaking him out of his reverie.  A smile from Ororo, and she was gone again.  Right.  Foodstuff consumption first, and then perhaps he'd go back to working on the various and sundry possible cures; his notes lay scattered all over the desk.  Futile, useless work, but he couldn't admit that to himself quite yet.  He took a bite of his dinner; it was probably quite delicious.

He couldn't taste it, couldn't taste anything but bitter failure, like bile in the back of his throat.  Damn, he hated failure.  When they lost a member of the team it was always hard; he remembered Colossus – that, too, had been his fault.  His fault for developing that 'cure' for the Legacy Virus, or for not finding another solution, or from keeping Piotr from taking that last desperate step…

As if on cue, Katherine Pryde stepped through the wall.  She'd eventually returned, after the death of her love, a different woman – yes, a woman now, not a girl; hardened, somehow.  No softness in her, anymore.  What remnants of her childhood had remained she had discarded – Shadowcat was lean, lithe, a force to be reckoned with in battle, but empty, otherwise.

Even Logan had given up calling her Kitty.  Now she walked towards him with that set look on her face; it was an expression most of the X-Men were becoming all too familiar with.

A printout landed on his desk.  Hank just looked up at her with concern.  She hadn't been sleeping much lately, either, and it was showing.  Always petite, she'd lost even more weight, becoming angular to a point that worried him.  

"How are you today, Katherine?"

"I'm fine." was the terse reply.  "Take a look."

The printouts were a series of news reports from Germany; translated, thank you very much, although Kitty – safe enough to still think of her by that name – had picked up some of that language during her 'away time'.  Along with quite a few other languages, which had everyone wondering just what she'd been up to, exactly.  The central theme of the stories was the same – claims by gypsies and some townsfolk from the Black Forest region that a demon lived in the mountains, guarding a sorceress of 'great power'.  There were also claims from some either very brave, or foolhardy, folk, who'd sought out this demon, in order to gain access to the sorceress and ask her for boons… yadda, yadda, yadda… ah.  Usually centering around healing, although there was one amusing anecdote about a woman who was supposedly infertile… until she visited the sorceress and nine months later delivered quintuplets.

"Katherine, do you really think we are desperate enough to resort to superstition and hearsay?"

Her eyes narrowed.  All right, so that had come out wrong.  No sudden movements, no sudden movements…

"We're almost that desperate, Beast, but not quite.  Personally, I don't believe in demons, or magic.  Which leaves us with…"

Hank sighed inwardly.  Of course.  Although it was a little painful to have the obvious pointed out to him by a teen ninja with a sarcastic streak a mile wide.

"Mutants." he said.  "Hiding out somewhere in Germany.  And you intend to hunt them down and bring them back here?"

"I don't know that we have time for that." she replied.  The corners of her mouth tugged up into a sort of smirk, the closest she'd got to a smile that Hank had seen for a long time.  "I think we should bring Jubes to them."

Kurt Wagner raised his head sharply.  There were few things that could drag him away from Jimaine's roasts, and one of them was the unmistakable feeling of a warding line being crossed.  Not that crossing the lines would harm those who entered their domain; it was just an early warning system.  His magic was not that advanced; whatever his demonic powers (other than teleportation) might be, they didn't seem to include the ability to perform more than the simplest of spells.  Perhaps Margali could have helped him develop his gifts further – but his foster mother was long dead.  Stefan ruled over the Winding Way – which had left Jimaine to follow the slower, but safer, route of Light magic – hardly the best discipline with which to teach a demon, if that was indeed what he was.

He shrugged, having teleported halfway through his stream of thought (let Jimaine pick the knowledge out of his head if she wanted to know what was going on), and peered through the darkness, his keen night vision helping him.  He knew they wouldn't be Romani; the wanderers recognized the warning signs and stayed well away from the boundaries he set; although gifts might be left at the borders, they rarely dared cross into his 'kingdom'.  He distinguished at least six figures – no, seven, one of them carried another prone body.  Seeking healing?  Well it was better than the other sort.  There'd been a one lot who'd come through, waving weapons and talking in English, a language he understood poorly and had no real desire to learn.  They'd had the audacity to attack, and died quite messily.  They called him 'mu-teh', an word he assumed was some English type of demon; although they seemed to have a very limited understanding of what such a being might be capable of.  At least the local fanatics brought priests and tried exorcism; not that that kind of thing worked on him, but it had _style._

He continued to sneak up on the group, preparing to indulge himself in one of his favorite activities – scaring the hell out of people.

Logan sniffed the air, suspiciously, a feverish Jubilee in his arms.  He was sure there was something about, but even he was surprised when a glowing pair of yellow eyes appeared in the darkness.  Beside him, Shadowcat stiffened and drew a knife (how many weapons did Pryde have concealed on her person, anyway?); Beast, Storm, Jean and Cyclops stopped in their tracks, an audible gasp coming from at least one of them.

As their eyes adjusted to the dim light, the rest of the creature came into view.  Dressed only in a pair of leather pants, it crouched in front of them, it's grin showing off two glinting white fangs.  Or perhaps that should be his grin, since the figure was obviously male.  This had to be the 'demon' of which the locals spoke; he quickly examined it as he would an enemy.  Well muscled, that was obvious even under the fur.  Crouched down, with it's (his?) tail lashing behind him, the demon looked like a cat ready to pounce.  And he'd managed to sneak up on Logan, which was fairly impressive (and annoying).  

Suddenly, the demon leaped into the air, doing a double flip before landing lightly right in front of them, making very little sound on impact.  Shadowcat moved forward, drawing a second knife; the demon met her two blades with two of his own, held in either hand.  

The real surprise was when the tail appeared at her throat, holding a third blade.  

{I think I win this one.  Back down, lovely.} he said in German.

Kitty swore (add that to personal knowledge about the 'new' Katherine Pryde.  Sarcastic, deadly, chip on shoulder the size of Texas, swears like a sailor.), but slowly, the two separated, although Kitty didn't put away her knives.

Logan decided to intervene before his ex-protégé either got hurt, or killed the one who might be able to help Jubilee.

{We are here to see the… sorceress} he said, hesitating before the last word.  His German was getting very rusty.  {The young one} indicating Jubilee {is very ill.}

The demon moved forward, touching one hand to Jubilation's forehead.  (Three fingers?).  

{Poison?}

{Yes, of a sort.  Do you speak English?}

A laugh, odd sounding and odder looking, from the demon.

{I do not care to learn that language.  But Jimaine can heal the girl.  Give her to me.}

He held his arms out, the three fingers on each hand outstretched.  Head slightly to one side, tilted, grinning.  Waiting to see what they'd do.

When Logan made no move to hand Jubilee over to him, the demon laughed again.

{As I recall, you sought us out.  The girl is dying.  Jimaine can heal her.  If you do not wish to trust her to me, you can turn around and go back where you came from.}

{What is your name, demon?} asked Shadowcat, still holding her knife in a menacing fashion.

An ironic quirk of the eyebrow, and the demon bowed to her.  {Kurt Wagner, at your service, fraulein.  Or, if you prefer, the locals refer to me as the 'Nightcrawler'}

He seemed to find this last _infinitely amusing.  Logan sighed inwardly, and carefully transferred Jubilee into the arms of 'Kurt'.  His nose didn't lie, and beneath the faint smell of brimstone, this 'demon' smelt very human indeed._

"Danke."

Nightcrawler smiled at them, fangs showing, and then there was a sound that could only be described as a 'bamf'.  Logan swiped at the cloud of smoke left behind and swore.

Kitty Pryde said something that we will paraphrase as "Logan, you idiot!", although the actual sentence contained a lot more four letter words.

And behind them, a thoroughly confused and rather annoyed Cyclops added.   "All right; _now will someone translate?"_

A/N:  Do we want more, people?  Review!  


	2. Chapter Two Healing and Chicken Drumstic...

Disclaimer: I don't own the X-Men.  This is a not-for-profit work for entertainment purposes only (which begs the question: for what other purpose could you use fanfic for?  Answers on a postcard…)

A/N: Mega AU, but you might have guessed that already.

{} is German, [] is Romani.

Jimaine was by his side the instant he appeared; taking the girl easily (she really weighed nothing, as tiny and fever-skinny as she was).  Some of her supplies were already spread out around her, and as she took the child she began to glow with that gentle white light that was the beginnings of a very powerful spell indeed.  Intending to finish his dinner (he'd only be in the way if Jimaine was healing), Kurt headed back towards the kitchen.

[Kurti, where are you going?]

And stopped mid-track, to sigh, then turn around.  Jimaine knew all his tricks, and didn't let him get away with much.

[A little wait will not hurt them, my love.]

She just gave him _the look, one which he had become infinitely familiar with since they'd fled their homes at the mere age of twelve, and one that hadn't lost any potency over time._

He grabbed a leg of roast chicken (hey, if he was to be teleporting back and forth all night, he'd need some sustenance, wouldn't he?), and concentrated on remembering the area from which he'd taken the girl.  

Jean sat cross-legged on the ground,  telepathically scrying for any sign of Jubilee, or their 'demon'.  Logan paced, trying to keep the furious energy building up inside him at bay, the one that screamed 'maim! kill!' inside his head.

He had a feeling that tearing up the forest wasn't going to help, this time.  Pryde was releasing her pent-up energy by fuming, swearing, and glaring at Logan as if it was all his fault.

Okay, so he _had handed over Jubilee.  But he remembered the face of Kurt Wagner quite clearly, and within the golden eyes and fanged grin there had been a hint of something very familiar – familiar, that is, to anyone who had known Robert Drake for any length of time.  Logan was getting the feeling that the demon thought of this as some giant joke; and they were just the entertainment for the evening.  That was annoying._

But there was also confidence there.  'Jimaine can heal her', he had said, and the thought that this strange new mutant had such confidence in the healers abilities was comforting.  Logan had an instinct about these kind of things, and right now his instincts were telling him that, as irritating as Kurt was, he could be trusted.

Although he wouldn't mind putting the boy in his place.  Nothing permanent, you understand, just a few bruises to make him understand that no-one, but no-one, mocked Wolverine.

There was a 'bamf', and the aforementioned boy appeared, hanging from a branch of a tree, flashing them an upside-down fanged grin, and eating what looked like a chicken drumstick.  Logan drew in a breath.  Yep, chicken drumstick.  

Smelled damn good, too.  

Katherine Pryde launched herself at Kurt with an unmatched speed and fury – only to crash to the ground as he easily avoided her, swinging and somersaulting across the tree-tops – and managing to hold onto the drumstick.

He'd obviously decided to stay right-side up for once, and crouched on a low branch, finishing off the drumstick.  Kitty picked herself up off the ground with a snarl and leapt for him once more – but before she was halfway towards him he'd swung up, with a grace that belied his fearful appearance, and rested comfortably above them.

A chicken bone, gnawed clean of flesh, was thrown down and landed neatly on Kitty's head.

{You know, Liebling, this is all getting a little tiresome.} came the lilting voice from above.  {You're not going to catch me, so you might as well _listen to me.}_

"What is he saying?" asked Scott.  When shushed, he turned to Jean, and soon after Logan felt a familiar presence settle in his mind.

_~Don't go poking around, darling.~_

_~I wouldn't dream of it.~_

With Jean perched in his head, translating, he approached Nightcrawler – as much as it was possible to approach someone who was a couple dozen feet over your head.

{Where is she?}

Kurt cautiously picked his way down to a slightly lower branch, keeping one eye on Shadowcat, and tilted his head to one side.

{Where is who?}

Logan growled, under his breath.  Through the link with Jean he could feel the irritation over the others as this answer was translated and relayed to them.

{Where is Jubilee, you idiot?}

Another pause, another branch down, another grin and tilt of the head.

"Ju…bi…lee..?" He sounded the name out.  {I am sorry, I do not understand this Jubilee.}

{The girl you took!}  Deep breaths, deep breaths, do not skewer the nice demon with your claws.

{You named her Jubilee?  Do all Americans give their children such strange names?}

Deep breaths.  {Just answer the question.}

{Why do you ask questions to which you already have the answers?  I took her to Jimaine, as should be obvious to anyone.}

{And where is that?}

There was a deep pause.  Kurt leapt down from the tree in one smooth motion, coming up close to Logan.

{And why should I tell you this?  You have not exactly shown yourselves to be people of peace.}  A smirk, and a nod towards Shadowcat, who was barely managing to hold herself back.  {Why should I trust you with the safety of my wife?}

Shadowcat just snorted, even as the shock of that statement was barely registering with the rest of the X-Men.

{Your wife, demon?  Somebody actually consented to marry you?}

His reply was rapid, and scathing.  {I see no ring on _your_ finger, Liebling.  Although as lovely and gentle a lady as you are, I can think of _no reason why that should be.}_

She threw a knife at him, then, but it passed only through smoke.  Behind them, he reappeared in the shadows, barely visible apart from his glowing eyes.

{I think I have wasted enough time here.  The child will be returned to you when she is healed.}

He turned his back, and disappeared once more.

Logan was about to scold Kitty – she'd done nothing but insult and attack the one who might have helped them.  His wife, and all of a sudden a lot of little pieces of this puzzle fell into place.

Kitty was swearing, but there were tears at the corners of her eyes.  She glared at Logan and stomped away into the forest, but for one brief moment he'd seen true sorrow and feeling in her eyes.  Sometimes they forgot how young Katherine Pryde was, even now, and how much she'd lost in her short life.

He watched her go.  "Get out of my head, Jeannie." he snapped.  "No need to translate now."


	3. Chapter Three Talia

Disclaimer: Not mine, although I wouldn't mind owning Kurt.  And Logan.  And maybe Remy too.  Or is that just greedy?

{} is German, [] is Romani.

Jimaine wove strands of magic through the air, sweat beading on her brow.  Some hours ago Kurt had returned; she'd heard him upstairs, creatively speculating on the ancestry and personal habits of their most recent visitors in a mixture of Romani and German.

She mentally shrugged, reaching yet again for the damp washcloth she'd had Kurt bring her a while ago.  The poison was being forced up through the skin, and the young girl was coated with an oily green sheen.  She could well guess what Kurt was angry about, although normally he hid his anger at the actions of such fools.  Flashes of memory passed across her mind.

[I care not what they think of me, Jimaine!]

Her blue-furred demon love was a sensitive soul, at heart.  Growing up with him, it took a while to understand why Kurt had to be kept away from crowds; why her friend couldn't come to the market of whatever town they were passing through, look through piles of baubles at the stalls, looking for 'treasure'.

[Hey Jimi!  Did you bring me something?]

The world flinched from the sight of him, and it hurt him, that was clear to anyone who cared to look.  But, being Kurt, he refused to let that show.  Instead, he mocked their fear; and encouraged it, in fact.  The number of times she'd caught him leaping from the shadows to scare those who came seeking him…

[They want a demon… I'll give them a demon]

She sighed, as the girl began to stir, and began to tie off the knots that would seal the spells she had woven.  On impulse, she wove a little protection rune into the closing circles of magic, and watched as it settled just over her heart.  The girl would wake soon, and then she could be returned to those who had brought her.

And then, perhaps, she could work out what to do about Kurt.

Kitty had given up pacing; and mostly given up swearing.  Now she was just sitting against a tree, waiting.  Wondering what the hell had happened to her manners mostly.

_~I think you know that, Pryde.  They went along with your patience, your innocence, and your love~_

Growling at her treacherous thoughts, she stared at Logan, crouched on the other side of the little clearing, surveying the forest with calm eyes.  The other X-Men, the ones who had been mostly superfluous so far…  _~__Wonder if Jean heard that thought.~  were in a little group.  Having a discussion, probably.  About her, probably, as most of them had been recently, or possibly about Jubes.  She snorted.  Scott would insist on having a full team come along for this, when only one or two were needed._

She wondered absentmindedly what Piotr would think of her recent behavior.  He'd always known how to calm her down, even though he wasn't always so-levelheaded himself.  But those strong arms wrapped around her and a gentle 'Katya' from him was usually all it took… although it didn't always work, and they'd had some simply magnificent fights.

And then he was gone, taken from her by his own actions… and as much as she'd wanted to scream at him, berate him, hate him for leaving her in such a way, she could not.  Sometimes she wondered if she could have stopped him, convinced him to let Hank find another way, but her heart said no to that as well.

Above all else, Colossus was a man of honor, and she could have no more stopped him from making that terrible sacrifice than she could stop the sun rising and setting each day.

But it hurt.  God, how it hurt.  Like a sucker-punch to the stomach, the realization that despite their best intentions, despite all that the X-Men may have already and may yet accomplish, her childhood fantasies would never come true.  She would never walk down the aisle in a beautiful white dress; never be able to just live a normal life, with Piotr at her side.  And now she would most assuredly never have a son with the eyes and bright smile of his father; never see their daughter asleep in her husbands arms.

And it was most terribly, terribly unfair.  Which was why she'd been so angry at this Kurt person.  How dare he smile, and joke, and mock her as if no tragedy could ever touch him.  How dare he have a wife, and protect her so, and care not about what the rest of the world may or may not do?

How dare he have so much, when she felt as if she had nothing?

Logan was still crouched by that same tree, waiting.  Jubilee was like his daughter, and his concern for her was clear upon his face.  She fought down a wave of jealousy.  Once she had held that prized position, although at the time she hadn't seen it as such.  She'd been glad for his guidance – and equally horrified at his overprotective attitude.  Then Jubilee had taken that position from her… no, Jube's had taken nothing from her.  She'd been good friends with her, and perfectly happy to let someone else be babied for a while.

And then after Piotr's death, she'd pushed them all away from her.  She'd lost her place both as Logan's 

'daughter' and as Jubilee's friend, along with all the other friends she'd ever had at the mansion.  She'd thought it would make it easier that way, so that the next time someone died, it wouldn't be so hard.

Now she just blinked back tears, and continued waiting.

Jimaine had helped Jubilee to a bath; thank Gott the girl had accepted her explanation; Jimi wasn't in a fighting mood today.  Kurt was about where she expected to be; up in the nursery, holding Talia in his arms and staring into the darkness.  As soon as she entered, he looked up, his eyes practically the only thing visible in the dark room.  Kurt smiled to see her, briefly, then turned his attention back to the child.

Jimi just smiled to herself.  The eight month old little girl would sometimes have trouble sleeping; but when Kurt took her in her arms she just lay back, her fur almost a deep a blue as her fathers, and go to sleep, sometimes almost blending into him.  Her eyes were as blue as her mothers; her hands and feet took human shape, and she was tail-less (sometimes Jimaine had a deep-seated feeling that Kurt had been disappointed about the lack of tail).  The other resemblance to her father came from the fangs that now, in her sleep, were only barely visible, glinting in what little light there was.

[How will we explain it to her, do you think?]

She moved closer, to wrap one arm about him.  [How will we explain what, Kurt?]

[How will I explain to my daughter, why the world hates her so?]

Jimaine sighed and sat down.  Kurt needed to talk this out.

[I don't care about them, Jimi.  I have all the love and friendship I will ever need from you – and yet it still hurts.  I have hardened my heart a hundred times over – and yet sometimes I wish…]  He shrugged, holding his daughter close to him.

[I know what it is to live in the shadows.  I am not unhappy with my life; but I wish to spare her the same fate.  And you must know this, my love: I would tear this world apart and put it back together again, just to bring the tiniest bit of light into her life]

[You must have hope,] replied Jimaine.  [Give it time; the world will learn…]

[They will not.] Was the flat return.  [But you are not here to listen to my complaints.  I take it the child is healed?]

[Yes, but I have one more favour to ask of you.  Her clothes are worn and thick with the poison besides; might you see if they 

have spare ones – I think I will burn this lot.]

His eyes showed resignation; Kurt had obviously hoped to avoid too much more interaction with the outsiders.  He went to put Talia back in her crib.

As soon as she left her fathers arms, though, she starting crying, a siren-wail that would not cease, despite all Jimi's fussing, until Kurt took her back again.  Whereupon she stopped crying, blinked up at him through sapphire-blue eyes, and promptly went back to sleep.

This sequence of events was repeated several times before they gave up.  Looking down at the sleeping bundle in his arms, Kurt remarked [And what am I supposed to do now, love?]

Jimaine's eyes suddenly lit up with mischief, and she said [Why not take her with you – she doesn't seem to mind the jump at all.]

Which was true – Talia could sleep through a bamf if she put her mind to it, where as Jimaine always ended up feeling nauseous after even the shortest of journeys; a side-effect that she'd noticed seemed common to most of the people who visited them.  If the journey took more than one jump, she usually tried to have a bucket nearby.

Thinking about her suggestion, a slow smile emerged on Kurt's face.  [Indeed.  Why not?]

The by now well-known scent of brimstone and sulphur hung about her; shaking her head slowly, Jimaine went back downstairs to check on their visitor.

Logan noticed him first; Nightcrawler was leaning up against a tree, golden eyes half-lidded, just watching them.  He held something in his arms and from somewhere out of the depths of Wolverines sleep-deprived, worry-addled brain came the thought – _~If he's gone and _shrunk_ Jubilee…~_

That irritating fanged grin was back, as well – the 'I know something you don't' look.  On Bobby it made him examine all his beer very very carefully before drinking it; on Kurt it was just unnerving.

The boy walked towards him now, as usual, showing no sign of fear – and why should he.  Pryde, an accomplished fighter even before she'd gone all single-minded-humourless-killer, hadn't even managed to touch him yet.  Perhaps that was why she hadn't pulled out any weapons this time – or it might have had something to do with the scent of her lingering tears, although only a little redness around the eyes remained to betray her to the rest of the world.

Making a mental note to corner Pryde sometime (a difficult task with someone who could walk through walls) and have a good long talk with her (again), Logan approached the boy.

{The girl is healed, and will be returned to you soon.  Jimaine requests new clothing for her – what she had on had to be disposed of; it is foul with poison}

Jean had settled back into his mind, and quickly translated; Ororo went to the Blackbird to find the bag she'd quickly packed before they'd left.

The scent of the thing Kurt was carrying wafted over to Logan; he noted it just as the bundle wrigged and then _gurgled.  Young, human but with that same strange scent… yes, with that same scent on her as that of her father.  Wearing only a cloth nappy, the baby turned a little in the confining arms, shoved one furry little fist into her mouth, kicked Kurt, and then was still again._

"What the hell is that?" asked Pryde.  Thank whatever Gods might still watch over him that she'd spoken in English; but even the tone of her voice had been enough to make Kurt look up at her, sharply, his gaze and posture once more wary and guarded.

"Mind yer manners, Pryde.  It's his daughter."  To Kurt he said.  {The kid's cute}

He received only a look of contempt.  {She is nothing of the sort.}

Ororo returned with the bag, and he slung it over one shoulder, shifting his grasp on the babe, who woke up, sitting in his arms staring at the strangers with wide, bright blue eyes.  Her father placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and she babbled nonsense at him, smiling happily.

Kurt just raised those demonic eyes to Logan, and, holding his gaze all the while, said.  {She is beautiful.} and then disappeared in another cloud of smoke.

Jubilation Lee examined herself in the bath.   _~Like, eww..~  The strange blonde woman had explained, in heavily accented English, that she had been ill and brought here for healing.  But that didn't explain why no-one had bothered to wax her legs while she'd been out for the count.  She looked like a __yeti.  Plus she was all pale – underneath the horrible green gunk, that was.  Okay, so the last thing she remembered had involved a big slimy green guy with large claws, so that part kinda made sense.  
  
_

God, her hair was all gross as well.  She'd need it cut, and like, a hundred bottles of conditioner.  She frowned.  Just how ill had she been, anyway?

The blonde woman came back into the room as she was scrubbing the last of the gunk from beneath her fingernails, carrying a bag.

"Clothes for you, Liebling.  Are you hungry?"

Actually, she was starving.  "Yeah.  Have you got anything with, like, lots of sugar in it?"

The woman chuckled.  "Ja, I'll see what I can dig up."

By the time the woman came back, she was up and dressed – pair of jeans, old – but warm – sweater.  No toiletries, so she was stuck looking like a drowned rat, but at least she was clean.  She was about to complain that she didn't need babysitting every step of the way, but the mere act of getting dressed had almost completely worn her out, and she was glad for a helping hand from the woman, who'd introduced herself as 'Jimi', to the kitchen.  

A warm apple pie sat on the old wooden table – although two large slices had already been claimed by the other occupant of the room.  Jubilee did a double take.  He was blue and furry, like Hank, but there the resemblance ended.  She'd been a little afraid of Hank until she'd seen his eyes – Hank's were warm, loving, and completely human.  This creature had bright yellow eyes, that glowed.  And his hands, delicately holding the fork and knife with which he was efficiently demolishing his share of the pie, were three-fingered.

Gingerly, she sat down at the table, two huge pieces of the pie were placed in front of her.  She still stole glances at the figure opposite – was that a tail? – until she realised what it was he was holding.

For grabbing onto one of his fingers, and quite effectively preventing further pie consumption, was a baby.  She kinda looked like Jimi, but had blue fur, and little fangs.  Jubilee's heart melted, while her mind boggled.  That would mean that Jimi and this… person… would have to have… well, like,…. y'know…

Her mouth was hanging open, she realised, and she put some more pie in it.  The baby really was very cute; and it was hard to be scared of someone who was holding a little kid like that.  She smiled, and eyed the remainder of the pie.

Once she was finished, the blue guy handed the baby over to Jimi; not without some trouble, as the kid seemed determined to hold on, and had managed to get her fingers entwined in his chest fur.  Then he stood up, brushing apple-pie-crust crumbs off himself.

"Time for you to go back to your friends, little one." said Jimi, handing her the bag, and pushing her gently towards Blue Guy.  "Kurt will take you."

Okay, so Blue Guy was Kurt, and he held out one hand to her now.   Well, what the hell.  Appearances could be deceiving, right?  After all, Emma Frost looked normal, and could pretend to be nice when she wanted to be, but really she was what Logan referred to as 'a nasty little piece of work', although Wolvie also had some more colourful terms for Ms Frost, ones only used when he thought the 'children' weren't listening.  So it made sense that someone who looked scary could be nice, right?

She took the proffered blue hand, and suddenly she was standing outside, with half the X-Men gathered around her, and rather wishing she hadn't had that third piece of pie.  And really wishing she hadn't had the fourth piece of pie.   Wolvie was talking to Kurt in what she thought was probably German, and she caught sight of a business card being passed over, along with what looked like a sizeable amount of cash.  Kurt hesitated, saying something to Wolvie and pushing the gifts back, but eventually took them.

God, she was tired.  Kurt disappeared in a puff of smoke – is that how he'd brought her here? – and Logan came back and picked her up easily.  Sleepily, she murmured against his shoulder "Can we come back to visit Jimi and Kurt sometime, Wolvie? She makes good apple pie."  He didn't respond, but she wouldn't have heard if she had, as Jubilee, for the first time in a long time, was blessedly, truly, asleep.

Kurt dumped the cash into a cookie jar in the kitchen, letting it mingle with the rest of what was there.  Jimaine would help herself the next time they went shopping – or rather, the next time he transported her to one of the nearby towns and she went shopping.  He examined the small card with a somewhat larger degree of care, the voice of the strange fellow who he'd assume to be the father of 'Ju-bi-lee' echoing in his head.

_~{__When you're ready to find out who, and what, you really are, kid…}~_

He took another look at the little white card, rubbing one finger over the address imprinted there.  Then he went to one of the walls, gently slid a brick out from amongst the others, and carefully stashed the card there with the various other items that went under the heading of 'things Jimi doesn't really need to know about'.

Out of sight, out of mind.

And far, far, away, a shapeshifter paced back and forth, awaiting news.  As she walked back and forth, she changed between the elegant, dark-haired figure that was Raven Darkholme, and her 'true form', the one that was generally known as 'Mystique'.  

A figure entered.

"Well?" she asked, her irritation showing.  "I am losing patience!"

"Do not speak to me as though I was one of your underlings, Mystique." replied her visitor.

"And do not seek to pacify me with more excuses or threaten me like some weakling flat-scan, Magneto." she replied, her voice dripping with venom.  "You promised me this; do not go back on your word."

"It is a good thing, then, that the thing is already done." replied Magneto with some amusement, handing her an envelope bulging with papers.  "You may relax, Raven.  I have found him.  I have found your son."

A/N:   


End file.
